Do you remember the first time we danced, under the indifferent gaze of the stars? Their luminescence crafted a silver veil, an illusion, perhaps, but our shadows moved in tandem, as if guided by the rhythm of forgotten love songs sung by past spirits.
And the whispers that followed—the trees holding their breath, oak leaves murmuring secrets centuries old. In the archway of time, your touch lingers, tracing the outline of a reality bathed in surreal colors.